by Andy McNab
‘Rio.’ I kept my voice low, not a whisper. ‘You’re on.’
He unzipped the bag and mumbled, ‘Great. I want to keep away from these two.’ He waved his good hand like he was wafting smoke as he came up to me at the top of the dip and laid his Vector on the tent nylon.
I pointed down the hill. ‘You see the Beamer? Okay, go left ten o’clock, and through the branches you’ll just get catches here and there of tarmac. That’s where any vehicles are going to come from. To the right is a dead end. I haven’t noticed any tracks or movement. You’ve got two hours and then it’s Jack, okay?’
He nodded as I rolled back to join the others and get into Rio’s bag. It looked like an Indian peace-pipe convention, the three of them sitting in a tight circle, bagged up in cheap red and blue nylon as Gabe and Jack smoked and waffled.
55
I’d had two hours on stag, thinking about the situation, and had come up with a plan I hoped the rest of the team would agree with.
‘So …’ I let it hang to make sure I had everyone’s attention, and thought of the Owl. He would have said ‘anyhoo’.
Gabe’s head had been buried in his sleeping bag but it popped up again, followed by a cloud of smoke. Everyone, including Yulia, had their eyes fixed on me.
‘The way I’ve got it in my head is that the Owl is doing exactly the same as he did up in the Arctic. That’s his job.’ I glanced at Yulia. ‘Before anybody talks about the Owl, remember, we’ve still got Yulia here.’
Gabe nodded, the cigarette still in his mouth.
‘Jack?’
He agreed.
I half turned to face Rio’s boots behind me. ‘Rio?’
He lifted one and wiggled his foot.
‘Okay, so let’s just think about what happened up north. It was all about the monitors. It was all about technology. The way I see it, Yulia’s the monitors. She’s the technology the Owl wants. He wants to suck out all the information she has tucked away in that head of hers. He wants to know how they planned to attack Nigella, because you know what? He’s probably thinking he can reverse-engineer it and use it against the Russians – or the Iranians, or whoever. The point is, he wants the contents of her head. That’s why he wants her, the monitors, all in one piece.’
I pointed to Yulia, who looked a mixture of confused and concerned. ‘So she’s the monitors, okay? And the ship – that was about coming to take the monitors at all costs, wasn’t it? Today, that’s us. We were sent to get the technology, to get the monitors at all costs. We’re that ship.’
Gabe exhaled with a sigh. ‘And the sub – who’s the submarine, then?’
I wasn’t sure if he was with me or just taking the piss, but it didn’t matter. The analogy made everything clear in my head. ‘The sub? That’s the Wolves. They’re the ones who would fight to deny anyone having control of the monitors, only this time they didn’t. They didn’t sink anything. We sank them. So we’ve got the technology. We’ve got her.’ I pointed again. She was now looking just as confused but increasingly worried.
‘So I reckon the Owl has exactly the same two objectives as he did in the Arctic. One, to get hold of technology that’s better than anything the West has, and two, to stop any escalation between the countries involved by making sure nobody knows, cleaning up the situation and killing anyone who would be seen as a loose end. He’ll want to achieve both these aims before any government, politician or the media can start rattling sabres or cages.
‘Make no mistake, what the Wolves were getting up to was still an act of war – simple as. And that’s what the Owl does: he stops that. His job is pouring oil over troubled waters. American waters, Russian waters, he just pours that oil whenever he sees a ripple. It means nobody’s aware, and we can all carry on watching daytime TV never knowing what scary shit went on that nearly led us to war. It’s what the Owl did up north, and that’s what he’s doing here. Same meat, different gravy. So how does that affect us?’
Gabe came in to say what we were all thinking. ‘This is a bigger fuck-up for us than we thought, isn’t it?’
I shrugged. ‘Yeah, but you know, lads, we still have the memory sticks, and we still have her.’ I nodded as she reacted a second time to the mention of starting a war. ‘Seeing as it’s the same meat, different gravy for the Owl, I suggest it’s the same for us. We do the same as we did a couple of days ago. I’ll go and see him. We’ve got the leverage – the sticks and the geek – so why don’t we stay here until dark o’clock, then drive back to the fat part of the UK where we have more options for hiding? I’ll make contact with him, meet up and negotiate a way out of this mess. Lads, what think?’
There was a lull I wasn’t expecting, certainly from Gabe. Surprisingly, Jack was the first. ‘I’m in.’ He took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled into his sleeping bag before his head came up. ‘It feels like the best option. What else is there?’
It did feel the best option, but so had the last time, except it had turned out the Owl knew what we were doing because we had a snide.
Rio had been kicking his toe into the ground to get attention and turned his head enough to be heard over the whisper. ‘I’m in. Gabe?’
Gabe gave him a nod, pulled his sleeping bag over his shoulders and lay down. ‘I’m in, but on one condition. If we get out of this shit in one piece, even if we don’t make the money, you’re still all pitching in for a new Jeep.’
56
Jack followed Gabe’s lead in pulling his bag over his head and settling in, but Yulia stayed sitting upright, her bag around her waist. She had a question. She looked at me, then at the paraphernalia beside Gabe’s bag. ‘Can I have one?’
‘Don’t ask me, ask him.’
Gabe didn’t bother moving his head out of its nylon shroud. ‘Crack on.’
She leant down, picked up the pack and the lighter, shuffling her arse from side to side to bring the bag up to her shoulders so she could copy the others’ smoking routine. She couldn’t have had any idea why they did it, but she was trying to blend in.
It became clear there was an end-game. ‘Nick, you didn’t tell me what will happen to me. Do you know?’
Her head dipped into the bag to exhale.
There was no point bullshitting. In any event, people react better to the truth. ‘For now, the guy on the end of the phone, the Owl, all he wants to know is when you’re going to access Nigella and how, as I said before. Then he’ll want to know everything you know about FSB, what they’re doing, who you met there, how you met, what you know, what you don’t know. But after that I haven’t got a clue. You’ll probably be in the same boat as us, surplus to requirements.’
A cloud of smoke enveloped her head briefly, making her, too, look like she was levitating out of the bag.
‘You know we are the best hackers in the world, don’t you? Almost everybody I know is pretty great at what they do. But I am better – I am much better. I really am like those monitors. I’m far more advanced than what you have in the West.’ She took another drag and dipped inside the bag to exhale.
‘They all work for FSB like you?’
The reply was muffled as she didn’t immediately bring her head out of the nylon. ‘About half of them. No one works directly for FSB – just through other structures. So FSB are one step away from the action – and, of course, the government are even further away.’
She reappeared, and laughed, smoke escaping through her hair. ‘I know how it all works because I’m not like the rest. The rest do drugs, lead antisocial lifestyles. They’re just concerned about the money and the collection of data. That’s all they do – collate data. They’re very advanced, but they’re stupid at the same time.’
She went to take another drag but paused, the cigarette halfway to her mouth. She didn’t want to disappear this time: she wanted to make sure I was listening. ‘I have moved away from that and I’m far more advanced. Tell this man, the Owl, I want to work for him, with him, it doesn’t matter – I just want to work here in the West
. Tell him he needs someone like me to show him why Russia leads the world. Why the West is so far behind. He stops wars? I can help him. We are already at war, Nick, and it’s you who are losing.’
She finally took a drag so deep the cigarette tip flared like a firework. She savoured it in her lungs, then dipped down once more to exhale. This time smoke seeped out of the zipper line.
‘Have you ever done bank fraud, Yulia? Credit-card fraud, that sort of thing?’
Her head stayed inside the nylon. Maybe that meant she got a double hit from the trapped nicotine.
‘Yes, I’ve worked for the gangs. It was a very difficult period in my life. I really needed money. I was living on the street. But, Nick, I never did anything illegal – you must tell him that. All I did was collect data and write programs. What they did with them, I don’t really know. I was doing it because I was paid.’
It was the best get-out clause I’d heard for years. She didn’t actually steal money, just designed the means for someone else to do so. Fair one, I would have tried the same excuse in her shoes. Social mobility, Belarusian style. Her head didn’t reappear. Maybe she wanted to give me more time to think about what she’d said.
‘How come you’re not all in prison? It’s you guys that are ripping off the banks and us lot, left, right and centre?’
She reappeared, and flicked a few centimetres of ash. She’d finished the whole cigarette in about four drags. Jack and Gabe would have been proud. She gave a smile – a slight one, but it was the first I’d seen since we lifted her.
‘You don’t shit where you sleep, Nick. And, of course, there’s no punishment for hacking outside Russia – only within Russia. So it’s a free market. There’s no police, no security services that try to stop it. Anybody can hire us. Ordinary people can. You just go to a cyber-fraud website and we’re there. It’s a free market. It’s a job market. That is why we’re the best – because the free market produces competition and competition produces excellence.’ She locked her eyes on mine. ‘We learnt that from you guys.’ The smile broadened as she stubbed the butt into the ground, waiting for the next question.
‘That’s how you got into this? They offered you a job to come to the UK?’
She shook her head. ‘Only sort of. I don’t know that world very well, the world of strong men. I’m a well-mannered person. But it is a regular thing for FSB to approach hackers to work for them. They can’t afford to employ hackers fulltime so I was working for one of their troll farms – you know, spreading pro-Russia, anti-American news all around the world. We are considered patriots for joining in the fight against those speaking ill of Russia.’
She gave another smile, larger this time. ‘It is so easy because you Westerners believe anything that is negative.’ She studied my face for my reaction. I smiled back because she was right.
‘We also targeted Turkey and Germany, Georgia, and then, of course, Crimea and Ukraine. If somebody asks me to do something, I’m not going to tell them to fuck off. I’m paid very well to collate data and produce code, but it isn’t as if I have a choice.’
‘You really from Belarus?’
Clearly she had been asked the same question before. ‘Yes, but I’m Russian. Born Russian – Russian and Belarus passports. Just like Crimea, Estonia, South Ossetia. There are many of us out there who are always Russian.’
I gave a shrug. There wasn’t much to say, and she hadn’t finished pitching. She wanted this small diversion over and done with.
‘Nick, would you please tell the Owl I am very good at what I do? The Russians think I’m the best, and that’s why I’m here. But now I can’t go back. They won’t trust me – and I don’t know what would happen to me. So I want to work for him – I want to work for the Owl, or the Owl’s group, whatever it is. Because I’m really good at what I do. I can explain how I can access Nigella and collect anything they want. It’s up to them how they use it. I can even tell them how to find Bogachev.’
‘Who?’
She smiled at me, a parent to a kid displaying total ignorance. ‘Bogachev, the gangs? The Business Club? The US have a three-million-dollar reward on his head. That’s the largest ever for a cyber-criminal. That makes so many Russians proud.’
‘I take it he’s protected in Russia?’
‘Bogachev is a legend. He has a great mind and, of course, it helps FSB. But I can find him for the Owl.’
That would count for nothing until I saw the Owl’s eyes light up with excitement.
‘Nick? Yes? Will you tell him? Tell him everything? What do you think he will say?’
I couldn’t give her the answer she was hoping for. ‘Look, all I can do is explain everything to him and he’ll take it from there. I have no control over him.’
She was surprisingly upbeat about my less than positive reply. ‘Please, just tell him. Yes?’
57
The waffle had stopped hours ago and we all felt the benefit of the bags. We had a long night ahead of us, getting into the fat part of the UK and hiding up. We would use the scenic-route setting on satnav to get us out of Cornwall on B roads, reducing our exposure to police, traffic cameras and habitation. Once we were well out of the county we could dump the Beamer and move on, like a snake shedding the last of its old skin. We not only had the Owl to worry about but also the aftermath of the woman’s shooting – and what if the pick-up point had been compromised before the Owl had got there to clean up? I found myself thinking like Phoenix: I had a responsibility to the rest of them to make sure no one captured us. We had weapons and would fight, but what if it was the police? Would we have to use weapons and possibly kill them to make sure we kept safe? I cut away from that one and fell back yet again on ‘react to the situation in front of me’.
That was why I would arrange to meet the Owl only when we were another bound away from the area.
Gabe had done his two hours’ stag and was climbing into the bag that Jack had left nice and warm for him. No doubt it stank of cigarettes, but Gabe would feel at home. It had been Gabe’s second stag, and last light had fallen as he lay there protecting us and, of course, keeping an eye on Yulia.
I watched him sort himself out in the bag next to Rio, slowly and deliberately, no chat or loud zipping sounds. He knew better than that. The one thing he did do was nudge Rio to stop him snoring.
Since she had got her head down, there had been no snoring or even much movement from Yulia. I wondered if geeks ever slept in the open air. This one hadn’t wasted any time getting her head down.
For my part, I’d been permanently on stag. I hadn’t slept at all yet, but it wasn’t because of the one little stone that always dug into your back but could never be found, no matter how much you moved around and tried to jiggle the leaf litter under you. It was because I was concerned about Jack, and particularly about Jack with a Vector. I didn’t know what he was thinking, or if he had instructions about what to do in a situation like this. Maybe I was being paranoid but, still, he had to be watched.
After the change-over, I pulled the bag up to my face but kept my eyes nylon-free so I could watch the dark shape lying on stag. My weapon was next to my body, exactly as his should have been, but with one major exception. My safety catch was off. No fumbling with fat fingers next time.
I wasn’t paranoid, I told myself. If it didn’t feel right, it probably wasn’t right. That sixth sense, on top of what I’d seen, was enough: a snide was lying there on stag.
It wasn’t much more than twenty minutes later that the shape shifted, turned onto the side with his good leg and spent a long time checking behind him. He did it far too slowly and carefully to be looking after us. He was studying the dark shapes for movement.
He rolled over very slowly and stood up even more slowly. It wasn’t about his prosthetic. I’d seen him get up before. The movement was far too cautious and wary for that. He was making sure no one heard him.
After several more seconds, he took the first few steps out of the LUP, leaving his weapon w
here it was.
I let him disappear over the rise before I carefully unzipped and picked up my Vector. Fuck knew what I was going to meet the other side. It could be the Owl’s clean-up squad, armed and with body bags.
I started moving, weapon in the shoulder, fat forefinger inside the trigger guard, mouth open to aid my hearing, each foot in turn lifting high to avoid anything on the ground that would make noise, eyes forward to the threat ahead.
Even if this was an innocent need of a piss, it was wrong. He’d left his weapon and he’d left his stag, putting us in danger. He should have given me a shake. I was the leader, and I would have stood in for him while he took care of himself. That was how it worked. He knew that.
But this wasn’t about bad drills.
I reached the lip and peered over. Below me, defined by the faint ambient light from habitation kilometres away on the lower ground of the north coast, there was a dark silhouette. He was bent over, his back to me, and he was using a fold in the ground to give himself cover. Was he pissing, maybe vomiting?
I waited a couple of seconds, trying to work out what the fuck was going on, before Jack confirmed what I’d suspected all along.
The glow of a mobile screen spilt either side of his back and head.
I surged the last six strides, weapon in hand. When I was almost on top of him I stooped to drop the weapon. He heard me above the sound of his thumbs working the keypad and turned.
I wasn’t going to give him a chance to breathe and talk. I bunched my still-swollen fingers into a fist and landed it in his face as hard as I could. He fell, and my hand felt like it was plugged into the mains. At least it meant sensation was coming back.
A split second after he hit the ground, the mobile joined him in the leaf litter and illuminated the area. In this little pool of light I focused on what was exposed of his face, and swung huge slaps with open hands. He screamed as I made contact with his face and then his skull. He tried to cover himself. I swung down into him more. I’d worry about my hands later on.